KindRed
by Lesalanna
Summary: Oneshot...Patrick Jane is more like another federal agent than he realizes... WARNING: Contains thoughts of suicide!


**Just a random oneshot that came to me, and the romance at the end suprised me, hadn't meant for it to get into the (little) detail it does...huh.**

**Might get to a chaptered crossover at some point, I think it could be interesting, now then, enjoy, and please rate and review!**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything...just a laptop...and my brain!**

He looked at the gun in his hands. It would be easy. Place the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger.

They'd understand, wouldn't they? He'd lost his everything, his whole reason for being. Ever since he'd come home and found the note on his front door…he'd been hanging by a thread. That thread was slowly unraveling…and when it fully did, he wanted to make sure he was the only one falling.

They didn't know about his gun, they didn't even know he could shoot. He was the mentalist, for pity's sake, an ex-psychic who now used his talents to catch criminals full time, instead of only some of the time…he often wondered what his life would be like if he'd never actually started helping the police.

There was one thing he knew: they'd still be alive.

__

He looked at the Sig in his hands. It would be easy. Place the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger.

They'd understand, wouldn't they? He'd lost his everything, his whole reason for being. Kelly…Shannon…Jenny…Kate…Paula…his life was slowly unraveling, and when it did, he wanted to make sure he was the only one falling.

They knew about the gun; he'd shot it more times than he wanted to remember, this one and others. He was a Major Case Response Team leader, for fuck's sake, an ex-Marine sniper! He often wondered what his life would be like if he'd never had to fight in the Gulf.

There was one thing he knew: they'd still be alive.

--

The team tried to tell him otherwise, and mostly succeeded…not that he believed them anyway.

For all his trickery, he was at heart a "superhero"…or at least that was what Kelly had said. She had been so proud of him when he told her he was going to help the police. "You're like a superhero, Daddy, reading the bad guys' minds!"

Van Pelt tried to tell him he had to be here for "another reason"…he didn't have the heart to tell her the other reason was two: Red John got more out of knowing he caused Jane pain, and that Jane hadn't been able to get up the courage to actually kill himself yet. For all his claims of atheism, he still was afraid that if he killed himself he wouldn't end up with Kelly and Tracy…that was in fact his worst fear.

Rigby and Cho didn't mention much about it, merely being there, offering in their male-macho way helping hands when he needed them, and unwitting targets to whatever mood he happened to be in. They didn't really complain about his stunts…they didn't know the actions were therapeutic for him. Like a stiff neck that had to be stretched until you wanted to scream to get it to pop, if he didn't cause them minor annoyance, he was afraid he'd find himself killing people.

Lisbon was the only one that understood, at least a little. She knew the only reason he was around was revenge. If he didn't have that, if he didn't get that…the gun would be put to good use. She knew that and…sort of accepted it. He still thought she'd be ready to stop him should he try. Couldn't blame her, she was too noble for her own good sometimes.

__

The team told him otherwise, and mostly succeeded…not that he really believed them anyway.

For all his gruff words, he was at heart a softy. He cared too much to see justice done. Bad of him at times, really. Kelly had only seen the soft side of him, never the gruff persona he showed to the rest of the world. "I love you, Daddy! You're the nicest Daddy ever!"

Ducky used to try to tell him he was there "for another reason", but the medical examiner had stopped after Kate's death. He couldn't blame his friend; Ducky had been as much grandfather to Kelly as he had father figure to Shannon. The Scottish gentleman had talked him down from killing himself numerous times after he'd had his revenge…played on his worst fear, the dear doctor did, that if he killed himself he wouldn't see them again.

Tony and Tim and Ziva…they knew, but didn't mention it much. They let him have his grief when he needed it, being strong for him when he needed it. They were his anchor to the world, his surrogate children. They all understood, in their own ways…each had felt a loss, and all supported each other, a true family.

Abby…Abby understood. She saw the deepest into him, deeper even than Ducky. She knew his reason for existing still-she was his reason for existing still. She was his girl, his funny, silly Goth girl who was too noble for her own good sometimes.

--

He leaned back, sighed. The gun was still held loosely in his hand, as he forced himself to take out the clip and set it aside. With slow, unpracticed movements he stored the gun, packing it in the case and slipping the case back into his desk. He stood, placing the clip with the rest of the team's ammo; no one would ever know. It had been Tracy's gun…if only she'd gotten a chance to use it…it had been under the pillow…if only…if only…if only…

He shook himself out of his daze and walked back to the desk, then took a look at the sofa. There was no way he was driving home tonight…too many memories. Here at least…here was his life now. Not his life then. He'd stay.

Patrick Jane ran a hand through his blond curls and went to hunt up a blanket to go along with his pillow…if only the team knew. But they could never know.

--

He leaned back, sighed. His Sig was still held loosely in his hand, and she forced him to take the clip out and set it aside. With quick, practiced movements he stored his gun, slipping it into his holster and placing it on the table. She stood, placing the clip next to his Sig. No one would ever know. If only they hadn't died…if only…if only…if only…

She shook him out of his daze with a gentle kiss to the forehead, and led him to bed. There was no way he could do anything tonight…too many memories. But she knew this, and settled him down, curling around him, protecting him where he would always protect her. Here was his life now. Not his life then…they were gone, she was here...and she knew and accepted all of him, even _them_ with him. He'd stay.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs ran a hand over Abby's black hair and shifted to cuddle her closer, pulling the blankets up around her, letting her use his arm as a pillow…if only the team knew. But they could never know.


End file.
